


Close Off Your Senses (And Turn Out The Lights)

by waitingfor_mybiggles (waitingfor_margo)



Category: The Libertines
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, High school crushes, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Schoolboys, Slow Burn, more like Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 15:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10166132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingfor_margo/pseuds/waitingfor_mybiggles





	1. Chapter 1

Pete Doherty was nervous. Nervous because of school. And that was something that really wasn’t usual. He was a clever 17 year old boy, who hadn’t to worry about failing class. A presentation was a good way to get great marks and normally he appreciated giving them but right now he’d rather be at home in his room and cover himself with his blanket. There it would be much more comfortable and safer than in the classroom where he would have to talk to his classmates and not let himself be distracted by someone standing right beside him. A certain someone. A very gorgeous someone with intense blue eyes that made it impossible to speak without stumbling over your own words when they were directed at you. With lips sinuous like the waves in the ocean where the good ship Albion glided through the water and so soft looking like a kitten’s fur. With dark curly hair that seemed to never fall the way its wearer wanted it to so that he had to toss his head a little or run his hands through it which was Pete’s absolutely favourite move a hand could ever make. Yes, the person who happened to be paired with Pete to give a presentation for the next English lesson was his dream boy. That one he had a crush on since he walked through the door on his first day at the new school about half a year ago and saw him standing with his back to him bent forward to speak with a blonde girl. So the first thing Pete set his eyes on were his buttocks. And really, they were very fascinating. Clad in a white tank top and tight black denim that showed clearly the beautiful curve of his arse, the boy stood a few metres away from Pete and shifted his weight onto his naked arms, so Pete could see his muscles flex. His fingers lying on the table tapped a light rhythm as he listened to the girl’s words. Then suddenly, as if he could feel Pete’s eyes on him, he turned around and looked directly at him. As Pete saw aforesaid eyes, mouth and hair he had to blink a few times. He must have looked like an idiot. The boy thought obviously the same, as he raised his brows and turned again to continue chatting with the blonde. In this moment the bell rang and Pete sat himself down at a table in the back row. The teacher arrived and Pete heard him say to the beauty personified: “Carl! Please take your seat.”

Since this day Pete fantasised about Carl every free minute. He happened to sit at the table to Pete’s right so that he could admire him with a sideways glance when the teachers weren’t looking. Pete could tell by the way Carl wrapped the curls of his fringe around his fingers rather than looking up at the board that he wasn’t very interested in the subject matters. And the teachers weren’t very interested in Carl. It seemed to be a silent agreement that one didn’t bother the other and accepted one another without so much as looking twice. But the teachers liked Pete, they were interested in his ideas about the topics and gave him good marks for his collaboration. And Pete (obviously) was interested in Carl. So he knew by now, that Carl didn’t spend the breaks inside but went behind the school building to smoke with his friends (who were in different courses than him and Pete; Pete was very lucky to share every course with Carl – maybe he wasn’t lucky, maybe he had switched in the first week after he found out which courses Carl was in. Just maybe). Pete never interrupted their meetings, nobody ever did, it seemed to be their personal place so Pete just watched from afar. But he convinced a boy a year older than him to buy him a packet of cigarettes so he could learn how to smoke. It was disgusting. After he felt like dying of the second drag, he threw the full packet in a nearby bush and stubbed the burning cigarette out. So he couldn’t impress Carl by this. But how then? Obviously not with his appearance. Pete was about 6 feet 2 tall, slim, lanky, with long legs, had a pale skin, two huge chocolate brown eyes, pouty lips and dark hair that was always a bit messy. He looked neither typically male nor female, what would have been great if Carl hadn’t been sure about what he preferred, but he seemed so absolutely straight that Pete didn’t really think that he had a chance anyway. Though Pete Doherty was a boy with a ridiculous amount of confidence and hope so that he wouldn’t have given up even if Carl had told him clearly that there wouldn’t ever happen anything between them. Probably Pete would have been actually happy about it, because it would have meant that Carl Barât did talk to him. What wasn’t very often. Never, to be honest. Carl didn’t see him and that was most frustrating about it. Pete wondered if he actually knew his name. Neither did Carl see the one who loved him nor the love itself. Pete was a silent admirer hoping for the voice of love to break through to Carl. 

And then, one uneventful day like all the others became the most important for Pete and his problem with Carl. Because this day, a Thursday, their English teacher drew lots to determine who would give a presentation about a famous poet together. First he drew the poet, then the names of two students. The first poets were scattered (William Blake, Lord Byron, John Keats, P. B. Shelley and E. E. Cummings) and the next one the teacher drew was Emily Dickinson, one of Pete’s favourites and silently he hoped to get her when his name was called out. He was excited and almost missed the name of the person who would give the presentation along with him. Almost. Pete wasn’t sure if he heard the name “Carl Barât” only in his head (it would have been possible). But no, he had heard those two important words out loud. And he was pretty sure he hadn’t spoken them. Even if he did not have much control over his mouth when it came to Carl, he wasn’t this much of a fool. The teacher really had paired him with Carl. His Carl. The Carl he wished he could talk to and make him realize Pete was even there. He couldn’t believe it at all. He looked over at Carl who just kept looking bored at his table. But Pete couldn’t suppress a little smile. 

***

Pete chewed on his bottom lip while he looked on the clock in front of him. Two more minutes until the end of class. After English Carl had left immediately to go outside smoking and came back just when the bell rang so that Pete hadn’t had the chance to talk to him and now was the last lesson and he really hoped to catch Carl before he could leave again. He didn’t know what he would say to Carl when he finally stood before him. It was ridiculous really, they were in the same class for half a year now but they never had to talk to each other before because of school so Carl had no reason to do other than to ignore him and Pete wouldn’t have dared making the first move. He did have confidence but when it came to Carl he felt so little and inconsiderable. He shouldn’t fall for someone who gave him that feeling, should he? When just Carl could see…   
The bell rang, the students took their stuff and the first of them left the room. Pete hurried to put his books in his bag and stood up. Slowly Carl grabbed his bag and his leather jacket that he wore every day and which let him look somehow taller and even more gorgeous than he was anyway. At this moment they were the last two persons in the room and only now Carl looked up to see a nervous Pete standing before him. He looked expectantly up at him. Pete felt a lump in his throat. After a gulp he managed an awkward sounding “H-hi”. Carl mumbled “hi” back and raised his brows at Pete neither saying something nor letting Carl walk past him to the exit. Think Pete, he willed his brain to work. “You mind me going now? I need to take my bus home”. Carl looked inquiring up at him. Say something, idiot! “Um, you and I, you know, I mean…” he stuttered and silently cursed himself. “Okay, sorry, what I wanted to say is you and I, we were paired to give this presentation in English, you know, Emily Dickinson and I wanted to ask…” “Yeah right”, Carl interrupted him. “You can do it”. He tried to walk past Pete but he made no move to let him. “Wait, what do you mean?” “Well, you quite like poetry and that kind of stuff, you won’t mind doing it alone, will you?” For a moment Pete was amazed by the fact that Carl knew about his fondness for poetry but then he realized what Carl had just said. “But that is not optional, you can’t just decide not to do it!” Pete was taken aback by Carl’s boldness. Carl looked serious though. “So? Can I go now?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer, pushed past Pete and went out of the door. Pete was stunned and just stood for a few seconds before running after him. He wouldn’t give in that easily.


	2. Chapter 2

Pete felt like an undercover agent with a secret mission. Hidden behind the corner of a house he saw Carl leaning against a lantern at the bus stop lighting a cigarette. How much did that boy actually smoke per day? His poor lungs…But Pete had to admit, watching Carl smoke was one of his favourite activities. How he wrapped those lips around the filter, his cheeks hollowing as he inhaled, tossing his head back while slowly blowing out the smoke, his hair whipping back and his adam’s apple clearly visible. Pete sighed quietly. He could stand here and watch forever. But sadly he wasn’t able to as the bus Carl was waiting for arrived. Carl stubbed his cig out, got in and sat down on one of the seats in the front of the bus. Pete was glad about that as he hurried to silently slide into the back row and held his scarf before his face so that only his eyes were peeking out. Better safe than sorry. 

The whole ride Pete looked at the back of Carl’s head, considering that maybe it was a mistake to just jump into the bus with Carl to follow him home, given the twenty minutes they drove by now. His mother was probably awaiting him. In this moment, the bus stopped again and Carl stood up to get out. Pete hurried after him. He tried not to make a sound and at the same time to be inconspicuous. But he felt like standing in the middle of a stage with everyone looking at him. He certainly wasn’t good at this. What had he let himself in for? Carl turned around a corner and Pete saw a row of about ten small identical houses pushed against each other. Carl went to the third, unlocked it with a key, slipped inside, the door fell shut and there Pete stood, alone and freezing a bit. Minutes passed in which Pete wondered what exactly he had expected. What had he thought as he followed Carl? What should he do now? Ring? Well, it seemed the only way when he wanted to convince Carl that they had to do this stupid little presentation together and that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Hesitantly he walked over to the building and rang. Only a few seconds later a dark haired woman opened the door and smiled at him. She didn’t look much like Carl with the exception of the eyes, they were the same intense blue as his. “Um, hi, I’m Peter Doherty, I’m a classmate of Carl and we are supposed to give a presentation for English together and I thought maybe I could talk to him about that, if I’m not disturbing you of course.” “Nice to meet you Peter, I’m Carl’s mum, you can call me Chrissie. Of course you’re not disturbing, you’re welcome, just come in, give me your coat.” He walked in and gave her his coat after closing the door. She smiled again and said “You know, it’s funny, Carl just came home, you could have seen him.” Pete felt his cheeks colouring. Carl’s mother didn’t seem to notice though and asked him “do you want a cup of tea, dear?” “Oh no, thanks, I’m fine.” “Alright, then just go upstairs, it’s the door on the left. Just tell me when you need something.” 

As he arrived upstairs Pete heard music coming from the room Carl’s mother had described as the one of her son. A little melody played on guitar. It sounded beautiful and Pete slowly opened the door. He stood in the doorway and saw Carl sitting on his bed, guitar in his lap, his fingers gliding over the strings. He had his head bent over, his fringe falling in his face as he was concentrated on what he was playing. The new found fact that Carl played guitar added to Pete’s long “why I’m in love with Carl Barât” list. He wished he could play. He was sure his parents would buy a guitar for him if he asked for it, but he doubted he could teach himself. He wanted someone to show him how to play his favourite songs and to create his own sounds that could touch people and give them something to hold on to, that let them feel understood. He wanted someone to show him how to keep the faith in himself, how to be motivated and not give up when it wasn’t easy.  
Pete could hear Carl hum along with the melody his fingers created on his instrument. It was somehow peaceful and Pete really didn’t want to interrupt. And then Carl started to sing. “Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you’, birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me” he sang and Pete felt like melting. Carl’s voice was beautiful, as everything about him, it seemed. The way he sang “I love you” in that husky voice, yet clearly audible (other than when he spoke) made Pete feel like he sang it directly at him. But of course he didn’t. “Say nighty night and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me, while I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me.” And Pete really wanted to do exactly as Carl instructed but couldn’t move, he was too overwhelmed. He didn’t want this to stop, he could listen to Carl singing sweet words of love and affection like that forever. Before this moment Pete hadn’t known how much passion was hidden behind Carl’s calm surface. Well, he didn’t see very much of him normally. Every day in school he saw a beautiful boy sitting at the table, looking bored, probably counting the minutes until he could go home, interrupted by breaks of smoking and chatting. Now Pete knew where he went back to in the afternoons, where he felt at home, it definitely wasn’t this small old house in a dark district, but the sounds he let escape of his guitar that filled the room and felt like a bubble around Carl and Pete now, not letting the world near them. And suddenly Pete could hear so much more than the lines Carl was actually singing, he heard a boy that had fears and doubts and that was desperately looking for an anchor in this merciless world.  
Then Carl’s voice rose. “Stars fading but I linger on, dear, still craving your kiss, I'm longing to linger 'til dawn, dear, just saying this.” Pete definitely wanted to save this so he could listen to it every day. If he could sing like Carl… He leaned against the doorframe to make himself more comfortable but somehow managed to overbalance because he had forgotten that he had his legs crossed at the ankles. Desperately trying not to fall on the floor, he flailed his arms and grabbed the doorposts. Carl cringed, looked up and almost dropped his guitar as he saw Pete looking like a doe in headlights, stabilising himself again. “Fuck! What are you doing here?!” Carl shouted at him, stood up and put his guitar on his bed. “I, um” Pete started, Carl glaring at him really wasn’t helpful. He shouldn’t find this glare sexy, should he? “I didn’t want to interrupt you” he managed to say quietly, but Carl didn’t seem satisfied with this answer. “No, I meant why are you in my room? Or even in our house?” Carl really was angry and Pete knew he wouldn’t like his answer. “Well, I told you, you can’t do nothing relating to the presentation…”he trailed off and lowered his head. „Really, Peter?” Pete lifted his head again to look at Carl. So he knew his name. “So you decided to stalk me?” “I didn’t stalk you, I just wanted to know if I could convince you, you know, it’s also my problem when you won’t work with me”, he replied defensively. Carl said nothing, just continued looking at Pete, his expression was somehow softer though. “I liked listening to you” Pete said and blushed a little. It was important for him to tell him that. “You’ve got a great voice.” Carl looked slightly surprised and a bit shy at Pete’s words. In his eyes Pete could see uncertainty and doubt. He didn’t believe him much. “I think you are really talented, you know”, he added. “I believed you what you sang, it looked like it really means something to you. I think that’s very important for a musician.” “It’s one of my favourite songs, it does mean a lot” Carl mumbled. Pete was amazed by Carl’s insecurity. He didn’t seem to be conscious of his talent, Pete thought that was ridiculous. He didn’t want Carl to feel uncomfortable though, as it was Pete who had shown up on his threshold without asking if his presence was welcome. And obviously it wasn’t. So he didn’t try to convince Carl of the insanity of not believing in your own strengths just now. So instead he began: “Sometimes music can understand you. It can be very helpful.” Carl didn’t reply, neither verbal nor by nodding but Pete could tell that Carl agreed with him. He looked interested now. “Everyone needs something that calms them down when they’re upset, that is able to dry the tears, that is their untouchable but clearly tactile friend, that makes bad times good at good times great. I suppose that’s what music is for you.” Carl nodded. “For me it’s the same with poetry.” At that Carl flashed Pete a glance that could only say “seriously?” but Pete didn’t care. He walked over to Carl and sat down on his bed. Carl looked distrustful as Pete patted the mattress beside him but complied and sat down too. “Emily Dickinson is one of my favourites. There is this poem of her that really cheers me up when I’m feeling down.” Pete took a breath and began:

“ ’Hope’ is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops at all And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I’ve heard it in the chillest land And on the strangest sea, Yet never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.” 

As Pete recited those lines he looked Carl directly in the eyes. Carl listened carefully to Pete’s words. Was that the hint of a smile? Pete couldn’t remember ever having seen Carl smiling before. There was a little pause after Pete had finished. “You are quite good at this. Reciting, that is. I liked it. Thanks. Really, thank you”, Carl said. But he said so much more than that as Pete could see in those azure depths. How could you not speak with someone but know exactly how they were feeling just by looking them in the eyes? And he didn’t really know Carl. Before now they hadn’t even talked. Well, Pete was the one doing the talking mostly, but still, this was a huge step for them. Suddenly Pete was very aware of the fact that he was pretty close to Carl. Their legs were touching. There was a strand of hair falling over one of Carl’s eyes. Pete leaned forward and tucked it behind his ear. Their mouths were inches from each other. There was this look in Carl’s eyes. Pete took his face in his hands and kissed him. Their lips had barely touched when Carl jerked his head back and pushed Pete away from him, a shocked expression on his face. “Sorry”, Pete said quickly, getting up. Carl looked up at him from the bed, not able to say something. Every positive emotion towards Pete from before gone from his face. Pete was such a fool. “I’ll better go home now”, Pete finally ended. He turned around not looking back at Carl as he walked out of the room. Fast he got downstairs, grabbed his coat from the hook and ran out the front door. For a few moments he stood on the pavement. Then, because he didn’t know what to do otherwise, he began to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

Carl sat on his bed, unable to do anything. Minutes passed. He needed to think. Think about Pete. About what had just happened. About what it meant. But all he could concentrate on was the image of Pete’s face coming closer, his eyes so huge, looking at him with an expression as if he was about to get what he was craving for so long. He couldn’t get those eyes out of his head. The same eyes that were so full of hurt and then surrender somehow when Carl had pushed him away. Pete had kissed him. Pete had kissed him. Pete. Had. Kissed. Him.   
Carl wasn’t gay. He liked girls. Their delicate bodies, the way they walked, their sweet kisses. Never had he thought of other guys this way. But although Carl didn’t want to admit it, neither to himself nor anyone else and especially not to Pete, when he had kissed Carl, when their lips had touched, even just for a second, Carl had felt a thousand little electric shockwaves everywhere in his body. It was something he had never felt with anybody else. And that confused and terrified him. Carl didn’t want to feel this because of Pete. He didn’t know him. Before today he had never talked to him. He knew that Pete was good in school, liked it a lot apparently. He was especially interested in English. But apart from that Carl knew nothing about the boy with those huge eyes. The eyes he saw now when he closed his own. He reopened them. Why had Pete kissed him? He didn’t know Carl either, did he? But when he had talked about music and having something to believe in and when he had recited this poem, Carl had had this feeling he had never had before while listening to another person. He had felt as if – and that was stupid, wasn’t it? – Pete had looked directly into his soul and had said out loud what Carl thought. As if he knew exactly what was important to him and what he needed to hear. As if he was Carl’s soulmate, if something like that existed. Yes, he had liked Pete very much when he had said all those things, when he had looked at Carl the way that expressed “Don’t worry, everything will be alright, because I’m here and I know how you feel”. But he definitely hadn’t wanted to kiss him. He hadn’t liked him this way. Although Carl couldn’t say that Pete didn’t look good. His eyes that filled half of his face and his pouty lips that Carl did definitely not want to feel on his own right now, were an eye-catcher. He had something very vulnerable about him. You wanted to embrace him and hold him tight so that the world couldn’t get near him. But you didn’t want to kiss him. No, Carl didn’t want that. Not at all.   
He heard his mother shout from below: “Carl! Please come here!” Carl sighed, got up and went downstairs. His mum stood ahead the front door next to the wardrobe and held a schoolbag in her hands. “Your friend forgot this when he left. He didn’t stay very long, was something wrong?” “No, he just had to go home”, Carl replied and thought that it was what Pete had said himself although he knew that Pete had left because of him. He felt a little knot in his chest at this thought. “And he is not my friend, we’re in the same class, that’s all.” “However, do you have his telephone number, so we can tell him to get his bag? What was his name?” “Pete Doherty.” Carl had a light feeling in his stomach when he said the name. “No, I haven’t got his number.” “Well, put the bag in your room then, you can give it to him tomorrow. But presumably he will come back and fetch it.” Carl’s mother handed him Pete’s bag and went to do whatever she was doing before she had found it. Carl stood there, holding it in his hands. Now he was curious. Slowly he opened the zip and looked inside. Of course there were a lot of school books, a pencil case, a bottle of water and a sandwich. In a side pocket Carl discovered a black mobile phone. He couldn’t help but fish it out and switch it on. His own face appeared on the screen, looking down and biting his lip. Carl flushed. The doorbell rang. Quickly he turned the mobile off, put it back in its pocket, closed the bag and went to open the door. 

*** 

Pete had cried for several minutes. Now he felt desiccated and empty. Of course Carl didn’t feel the way he felt. Pete had seen what he had wanted to see. He had been so sure that Carl had wanted this, he had read it in his eyes, but apparently this had only been a hallucination. It was all Pete’s fault, wasn’t it? Even if Carl hadn’t wanted him then, he had shown gratitude and interest in what Pete had said. He had liked him but of course Pete had to overact. He had blown it. At least he was free now and hadn’t to think about possibilities anymore because they didn’t exist. Apparently never had. Time to go home then he thought. Only to realize that he hadn’t got his bag. Fuck. It was still at Carl’s. He had placed it in front of the wardrobe when he had taken his coat off. The last he wanted to do now was going back there. But he needed his stuff, his books and his key. Carl’s mother would open the door anyway, so Pete wouldn’t have to see Carl again today. He would get his bag and go home, maybe cry a little more and go to sleep. Pete sighed. He walked the few steps back to Carl’s house and rang. 

***

Carl opened the door. “Pete.” Very accurate, Carl. “Oh. Hi, I mean…sorry, I just forgot my bag and wanted to get it.” Pete looked really unhappy, his eyes were red. Had he cried? Had Carl made him cry? “Um, could you give it to me?” Carl followed Pete’s gaze to his hands, still holding the bag. “Oh, yeah.” Carl flushed. Pete took it from him and turned to leave. Carl didn’t want him to go now, when he was looking so miserable. “How was it called?” he asked. Pete turned around again, a confused expression on his face. He looks very cute when he’s confused, Carl thought. “The poem, I mean.” Pete’s face lighted up a bit. No, he definitely looked better this way. “Hope is the thing with feathers”, Pete replied. “Ah, like the first line, I could have guessed”, Carl smiled awkwardly. Pete smiled back. Say something, or he will leave again! “Um, okay, so where do you want to meet up then, for this Emily Dickinson project?” He said it reluctantly, he knew Pete could hear that too, but nevertheless his smile widened. Carl had a warm feeling in his chest. I made him smile, he thought. I made him cry and then I made him smile. He was astonished at this thought as it showed what emotions he could cause Pete. But he didn’t want to make him cry, he just wanted this smile, wanted to see it every time he looked at Pete. He looked beautiful when he smiled, squinting his eyes slightly, showing his crooked teeth that Carl liked somehow, Pete wouldn’t have looked like himself if they had been even. Carl followed the small lines that became apparent on Pete’s face with his eyes, from his chin to his cheeks, as his mouth stretched in delight. Beautiful. “I don’t know. Where you like, we could go to mine or we could-“ Carl shut him up with his lips. He saw Pete’s eyes widen in shock and confusion, then he closed them. There was this feeling again at Carl’s lips against Pete’s, those shockwaves, like little flames that licked at his skin, warming him inside. Carl took Pete’s bottom lip in between his own and nibbled at it, causing Pete to sigh silently. That was me too, I made him sigh, Carl thought and at that his head decided to interfere and shouted at him: “What are you doing here?! You’re not into boys!” Carl stumbled backwards, his head down, quickly getting back in the house and closing the door. He rested his back against it and breathed out heavily. He closed his eyes, slid down to sit on the floor and asked himself: what is wrong with me?


	4. Chapter 4

Carl felt a pair of eyes on him. Huge brown eyes. Again. He turned the head slightly to peek from under his fringe to his left. Pete looked intently at him. His eyes burned into him as if they were x-rays, trying to look into Carl’s thoughts. Pete had been keeping on doing that since Carl had walked into class that morning. He hadn’t paid attention to the subjects since the first lesson and now was the fourth and clearly he was not yet interested in doing so. Carl was sceptical and a bit unsettled about that and although he wasn’t even trying to, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the class either. So he was more than pleased about the end of it. The next lesson would be PE and even if Carl really didn’t like sports, hopefully it would distract him a bit from Pete and release some tension. He could do with a bit time in which he needn’t to think about that boy. But of course it had the opposite effect.   
Because Carl hadn’t thought of the changing room. He walked in and placed his gym bag on one of the benches in the corner back in the room. Pete placed his on the bench opposite Carl. And gave him an interested look. That couldn’t be good. Oh no, that certainly wasn’t good. Carl flushed. How often happened that to him lately? Pete looked amused. Quickly Carl turned around to not show Pete more of his scarlet face and grabbed his sports clothing. He could do this. He had undressed so many times with Pete around. But thinking of it – how much attention had Pete paid him then? The thought made Carl shiver slightly.   
He knew Pete wouldn’t just change and get out before Carl had started, so he decided just to get it over with. He took his shirt off and tensed, feeling those ridiculous big eyes on him. How was it possible to feel them so clearly? Quickly he fished in his bag for the t-shirt he wanted to wear now. He plunged his hands in deeper, not able to find it. Finally he grabbed the bag and shook it out. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. Of course this had to happen. He should have known that this day wouldn’t be easy. Carl sighed and turned around, asking: “Has anyone got a shirt for me?” His eyes locked with Pete’s. Not for long though, as he was more distracted by other parts of Pete’s body. The boy sat on the bench, only wearing his boxers. Carl blinked briefly at the sight of his pale skin, the hairless chest fading to a soft looking stomach and…Carl willed himself to look away. “Here, mate”, said Finn, a blonde guy, holding out a blue shirt to him. “Thank you a lot”, Carl replied relieved and grabbed it. In the corner of the eye he caught Pete’s gaze scanning his bare torso, before he put it on. Carl turned around again. To expose his arse in front of Pete wasn’t a pleasant thought, but when he had to victimize it to save his crotch… he pulled out of his jeans and managed to get in his (own) trackies in record time. Quickly adding his trainers Carl got out of there without looking back at a certain person. Phew. 

To warm up their teacher had decided to play a game. He chose two students who were supposed to catch all the others. When you were tipped by one of the catchers you had to stand still and spread your legs. Students who weren’t tipped yet could crawl through your legs to free you. Then you would run away from the catchers again and everything would repeat until the teacher announced that you all could stop. Carl hated this game. Why should you run away from Louise? Or Sean? They weren’t scary. Pete somehow was. So Carl found himself not caring who it was he should flee from and kept turning his head to see where he was, not sure what he expected Pete to do when he wasn’t looking, but definitely not trusting him. So it didn’t take long until he ran into Sean. He stopped, not able to look for Pete’s skinny frame running through the gym, as he stood with his face to the wall. He could hear feet shuffling, soles squealing and boys and girls gasping. Carl began to feel slightly bored when he felt arms brushing against his heels, then slipping between his legs to pull the person’s body forward. A head appeared from under Carl and the boy it belonged to looked up. Brown gazed into blue. Pete had his head thrown back to look at him, so close to…Fuck. Nooooooooo. Carl quickly stepped back and turned around, letting a confused Pete kneel on the floor and pushed past his classmates who were running crisscross through the gym, blocking his way out and to the changing rooms. When he got in he quickly looked down to see if the current state in his boxers was visible. Hm. When he twitched at the cloth of his trousers a bit it wasn’t. Carl sat down and took his head in his hands, willing his blood to rush northwards again. How embarrassing. And unnecessary, as it was his brain that gave the instructions and he didn’t think of Pete in that way so there wasn’t a reason why his body wouldn’t obey. Bloody biology. Bloody Pete. That had to stop. He didn’t want to think and feel and respond like that so he needn’t, right? He was free to do what he wanted to and getting hard just by looking into Pete’s eyes wasn’t what he wanted. Why had his life to be so confusing? Puberty sucks, he thought. But that was normal, wasn’t it? Being not sure about what you preferred, having to find out? So this probably was just a phase. All he had to do was wait.   
The door opened. “Mr Lehman asked me to look after you.” This voice. So warm and creamy and currently gentle, but not exactly what Carl had wanted in this moment. How was he supposed to think now? Carl sighed. “I’m alright, just a bit…” confused, intrigued, aroused. You can choose. “…I don’t know, just not feeling very good”, he decided to end. He didn’t look at Pete who was standing in the doorway, fortunately not coming closer. “Listen, Pete. It’s…I don’t really know how to say it. I’m feeling strange lately, different from before and I don’t know how to think about that. I’m not sure I like it. I’m not really myself, I suppose.” “Maybe you are just able to be more yourself than ever, as if you don’t have to hide. Maybe that makes you feel different.” Pete said this quietly, hesitantly. Carl looked over to him. Pete’s eyes were really caring. It made Carl feel warmth filling him. It felt nice, like home somehow, a place of peace and comfort in yourself created by another person but the problem was Carl didn’t think he wanted it to be created by Pete. “Maybe I liked it, being hidden. It was safe. Maybe I want to go back to it”, he said and looked Pete directly in the eyes. Pete answered, not blinking: “Maybe you are just afraid. Afraid that it could be better. That it could be what you want, what you wish for. Maybe you are afraid of giving yourself over to it.” Pete said. “Maybe you are afraid of losing it again”, he added quietly. “Maybe”, Carl sighed, all the meanings of Pete’s words pressing down on him. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to risk it”, he said to his feet. “You are strong, Carl. You are. But it is up to you.” And so quiet that Carl had problems to catch the words, Pete said: “You deserve to be happy.” Carl heard Pete gulp. He looked so hurt, when a few minutes ago he had seemed so bright and playful. Again because of me, Carl thought embittered. He tried to smile at Pete but couldn’t really bring his lips to do so. “I really like you, Pete. You are clever. And you listen, even when I don’t say a word. I have a feeling that you get me. I never had that with another human being so I want to keep that.” It was as honest as Carl could be. Pete nodded. “Where do you want to meet today then?”, Carl asked him with a reassuring smile. Pete willed himself to smile back. “At my place at six?”, he asked back. Carl was fine with this and wrote Pete’s address down. “Okay, then let’s go back in and do some sport”, he said with fake motivation. Pete laughed. Carl had to smile.

******

Carl Barât was a mystery. Pete hadn’t been more confused in his life than now. How could one person be this changeable? As he looked at Carl sitting on his right, Pete thought about the day before. How he had talked. How Carl had looked so trusting. How their lips had met. How Carl had pushed him away. How Pete had cried. How Carl had tried to encourage him. How he had kissed him…and how he was gone. Pete had stood there, bewildered but after a moment of stillness he had felt truly happy. Carl Had felt something too. Pete had nearly danced back home.  
The next morning however Carl had walked into class, searching for Pete with his gaze, then going straight over to his table and trying to ignore him. What wasn’t working as his head was turning every few minutes to watch Pete watching him. For Pete it was rather fascinating watching Carl trying to blank him out. He was definitely interested. So when Carl wanted to play this little game, then okay, Pete would give him that.   
The next lesson would be an interesting matter. Pete walked into the changing room quickly after Carl and sat down in front of him. With what they’d shown each other the day before Pete had no longer the feeling of doing something prohibited when watching Carl reveal his beauty. He wanted to know everything about him. Wanted to see everything of him. Both inside and outside. And he wanted to believe that Carl felt the same.   
Carl saw Pete sitting across from him and turned a rather cute shade of pink. Pete had to smile. Deep inside he hoped that this was as new to Carl as it was to him. That it was his first time having feelings like that as well, that this was his first encounter with love. Carl had turned around and taken his shirt off. Pete had seen his lithe, slightly tanned back very often by now but he would never grow tired of it. How it bent to combine his shoulders and upper body with his arse in an elegant curve was intriguing. He looked almost like the statue of a Greek godhood. As Carl rummaged in his bag, Pete finally began to take off his own clothes. Sitting only in his boxers he suddenly felt very extraordinary in a very negative way. He had always been aware of the fact that he could never be nearly as attractive as Carl, but of course lovers didn’t have to compete against each other. It was just that he had to compete against everyone else. And his ridiculously long legs, his snowlike skin, his entire bony appearance couldn’t keep up with the bodies of all the other boys in this room let alone with the rest of the world. In that moment Carl turned around and asked: “Has anyone got a shirt for me?” His gaze found Pete’s but quickly got stuck to his body. Pete was transfixed by Carl’s expression, not by his toned chest and stomach as usual. He seemed captivated by the sight in front of him, almost in awe as his eyes wandered. Now it was Pete’s turn to feel heat in his cheeks. Carl’s examination was interrupted by a piece of clothing which he took gratefully. He turned away again to get on with the changing. Pete was tranquilized. Because love was blind. It didn’t have the same standards as society. It didn’t see a person as an amount of skin, bones and muscles. Not as ugly or pretty. But as a container of thoughts, feelings and stories. You didn’t choose the one with the most beautiful or perfect content, but the one with the most interesting. And the thought that Pete’s was interesting enough for Carl made his skin tingle. Happily he put his sports clothes on and was the last to leave the room. 

Running around was an activity perfectly suitable for Pete. Since he had been a child he couldn’t sit still. There was always a place where he rather wanted to be than where he was. Even if he had just arrived. His mind was always beyond the task at hand, always planning something new. His thoughts never keeping still, but slipping away. Only in the middle of the process, when he had gotten something into his head that he couldn’t get rid of, then he was able to concentrate and to be disciplined. It had been that way when he had been standing in Carl’s doorway and when he had been sitting on his bed. Now as he was running through the gym, Pete’s mental leaps lowered and he felt more at rest, as if his body had taken over and his brain could at least relax a bit.   
Pete’s eyes beheld Carl standing with his back to him, waiting for his saviour to arrive, thought Pete and chuckled. He ran over to his damsel in distress and stopped a few steps behind him to kneel down. He slipped his arms in between Carl’s legs and crawled forward. He couldn’t help but look for Carl’s face when he was halfway through. Carl looked down to him and held his gaze for a few seconds, then, thunderstruck, he leaped up and turned around to sprint out of the room. Startled Pete looked after him, then his gaze found that of his teacher and he stood up to walk over to him. “Um, sir, I think Carl is not feeling well, should I go and look after him?” Mr Lehman nodded and Pete left the gym. Carl wouldn’t leave the building, he probably had been heading for the changing room. And yes, there he was, sitting on one of the benches, his face in his hands, his fringe falling over his eyes, yet Pete could tell that he looked miserable. What was it? How could he have missed that there was something wrong with Carl? Especially he should have noticed. He probably had been too absorbed in his own infatuation. Stupid, Pete, really stupid. “Mr Lehman asked me to look after you”, he finally said in a low voice. Carl looked up but didn’t look over to Pete. He sighed and Pete’s chest tightened. “I’m alright, just a bit… I don’t know, just not feeling very good.” Pete waited for him to continue as Carl seemed to want to say more than that and he was right. “Listen, Pete. It’s…I don’t really know how to say it. I’m feeling strange lately, different from before and I don’t know how to think about that. I’m not sure I like it. I’m not really myself, I suppose.” Pete was numbed. Apparently he hadn’t paid much attention to Carl’s feelings, had he? Obviously he had been thinking a lot about yesterday, but not in the way Pete had… Pete felt suddenly very weak. But what he had seen when he had talked to him hadn’t been another Carl, a wrong Carl, it had been the “real” Carl, just Carl, he was sure of that. “Maybe you are just able to be more yourself than ever, as if you don’t have to hide. Maybe that makes you feel different”, he explained. He really hoped Carl would understand and believe him. Even if he was insecure. He cared too much. About everything it seemed. Carl looked him in the eyes. “Maybe I liked it, being hidden. It was safe. Maybe I want to go back to it.” Safety. Of course it was about safety. Of course it was about Pete. About his gender. He understood now. Fuck Carl, have the heart to do what You want, not anyone else. Without breaking eye contact he replied: “Maybe you are just afraid. Afraid that it could be better. That it could be what you want, what you wish for. Maybe you are afraid of giving yourself over to it. Maybe you are afraid of losing it again.” Pete didn’t know why, but he had never cared. Not about others, not about society and its “rules”. And certainly not about the gender. He didn’t know why you would classify humans into different categories. It wasn’t easy for him to understand why Carl would. But he had to be sympathetic now, who could tell why Carl thought the way he did? All he could do was trying to convince Carl of not regarding the opinions of others as more important that his own. It sounded a bit wrong to convince someone of not letting them be convinced by others, but he had to try and make sure that Carl thought for himself. And Pete was bold enough to think that what he had to say to Carl was more relevant than the words of this society. “Maybe”, Carl sighed. He turned his gaze to the ground. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to risk it.” “You are strong, Carl. You are. But it is up to you.” Pete wasn’t sure what more he could say. Quietly he added: “You deserve to be happy.” Suddenly he realized the lump in his throat and gulped. Carl looked up again and spoke to him: “I really like you, Pete. You are clever. And you listen, even when I don’t say a word. I have a feeling that you get me. I never had that with another human being so I want to keep that.” Pete should probably have been feeling better at that, but somehow he had the feeling that these were Carl’s parting words for the chance both of them could have seized. But hadn’t. Pete could only nod. “Where do you want to meet today then?” Carl smiled. Pete willed himself to smile back. “At my place at six?” Carl wrote his address down. “Okay, then let’s go back in and do some sport.” Carl’s words oozed with sarcasm. Pete just had to laugh. Carl smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

The clock ticked. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Pete watched the second hand working its way up to the 12, then pausing – the break it had there wasn’t longer than the others, but it looked that way – and set off to go back down, moving in a circle again and again and again…Pete was mesmerized by its steady movements, consistent and endless. It was peaceful sitting there on his bed, just watching the time clicking away. Time itself did not care what happened, it just moved on, but in its wake everything changed. Pete sighed. He got so pensive when it went dark outside. Too early, he thought. 5:45 pm. He liked autumn. It was such a mysterious time of the year. Rainy, foggy, cool. It looked beautiful, the contrast between the grey, cloudy sky and the orange and red leaves on the floor. Pete would sit by the window of his room, wrapped in a woollen blanket reading a book while outside it rained cats and dogs. Or he would observe the raindrops sticking to the glass pane and slowly running down while drinking tea or hot chocolate. On a Friday afternoon anyway. But there were only fifteen minutes left before he had to be concentrated, before he had to try and not let himself be distracted by his feelings while his counterpart desperately suppressed his own. This situation was a bit fucked up. Pete was definitely too easy for this world. He believed in happy ever after and love that waited for you to pick it up from the threshold. And he had the tendency to be sure of others thinking the same way. Especially when ‘the others’ were one person with dark hair and blue eyes who were on their way to this house.   
Pete’s books containing letters, poems and facts about Emily Dickinson lay on his bed next to his feet. Tell him, Em, he thought. Tell him about the glory of love that outweighs its difficulties. In Pete’s imagination anyway. Why shouldn’t life be the way you wanted it to be? It seemed that people took everything they could get to put it as obstructions in their own way.   
The doorbell rang and interrupted Pete’s thoughts. That was unexpected. He jumped up from his bed and went quickly downstairs. Before his mum could react, he shouted: “I’ll deal with the door, mum, it’s Carl from school, we’ll do some stuff for English!” He arrived in the foyer and opened the front door. There he stood, a sheepish looking Carl, hands buried in his trouser pockets. “Hey. I know I’m too early, sorry about that”. Oh, you could never be too early, Pete thought to himself. “There is nothing to be sorry about”, he beamed at Carl. Maybe too enthusiastic. If there was too much. ‘Too’ should be dispelled from the dictionaries. “Come in.” He stepped aside to let Carl in. Pete’s mum (who, of course, hadn’t listened to Pete and was curious about this classmate) got to the two boys and smiled. “You must be Carl, I’m Jacqueline, it’s nice to have one of Pete’s classmates here.” “Hello…Jacqueline”, Carl replied a bit nervous, he didn’t seem very comfortable about standing between the two Dohertys. “We’ll go upstairs, mum, we’ve got a lot to do.” “Of course.” Addressing the following to Carl she added: “If you need something, just ask.” If he had written this sentence down, Pete still would have seen her smile dripping from the letters like honey. “Come on then Carl, we’ll do it in my room.” Oooops, that had sounded way less obscene in his head than spoken out loud. But maybe he just read more into that than necessary. What had happened to his brain? But nope, if Carl’s face that had pretty much the same colour as the long, heavy and ridiculously kitschy curtains Pete’s mum had bought, was anything to go by, he was not the only one thinking about what Pete had just said. Pete’s mum of course hadn’t noticed, she walked in the direction of the living room, so Pete just headed for the staircase and expected Carl to come along. He did but couldn’t catch up with Pete’s legs that took two steps at a time. When he arrived at the top he was a bit breathless. Pete held the door to his room open for Carl to go through it and stepped in after him, closing it. He paused behind Carl, watching him scanning his room. Carl’s eyes flew over his single bed standing on the wall, his posters of music and football (Morrissey and QPR) above, the tall wooden wardrobe on the opposite and lingered on his writing desk. It was quite a mess there, lots and lots of unfinished drawings he had made in school during the breaks. Sheets of paper with notes on whatever was important enough to be saved by ink. More sheets of paper with apparently incoherent words or phrases that had crossed Pete’s mind at some point and hadn’t left him then so that he had to write them down. Pens. Books of his favourite authors for inspiration. A diary. When Carl had finished his inspection of this part of Pete’s life his head turned to look at the record player resting on a coffee table in the corner of the room. On a shelf next to it stood Pete’s collected records. Without hesitation Carl headed for them. He pulled an album out and looked if it was something he knew or liked. It certainly wasn’t as he placed it back. Pete watched with fascination how Carl repeated that until his eyes lightened and he held the record he had deemed good enough out for Pete to see and excited like a little boy he asked: “Can I…?” “Of course.” Pete smiled a happy smile, he wouldn’t refuse Carl anything in any event, but when he was so chuffed about it, it was just impossible. Carl went to lay the record on the turntable. Carefully he put the needle into the furrow of the record and stepped back. Pete saw him breathe out contently and relax immediately when the first song began to play. “Sunday morning, praise the dawning, it's just a restless feeling by my side, early dawning, Sunday morning, it's just the wasted years so close behind.” Carl turned to look at Pete, pure joy in his eyes. Pete thought it wasn’t just the music, not just that he had found something of himself at Pete’s, in Pete but also simply the joy of being here. At any rate he hoped so. Lou Reed’s voice drifted through the room, somehow silencing the two boys standing metres away from each other but being connected by the words they listened to. “Watch out, the world's behind you, there's always someone around you who will call, it's nothing at all, Sunday morning and I'm falling, I've got a feeling I don't want to know, early dawning, Sunday morning, it's all the streets you crossed, not so long ago, watch out, the world's behind you, there's always someone around you who will call, it's nothing at all, watch out, the world's behind you, there's always someone around you who will call, it's nothing at all, Sunday morning, Sunday morning, Sunday morning…” As the song faded out, Pete asked gently: “Do you want to start working then?” Carl nodded. 

***

Pete peeked at Carl, who was sitting across from him on his bed. He had immersed himself in “Emily Dickinson: A Biography” and chewed on his lip while concentrating on the book. Pete smiled. They had been sitting here reading, taking notes and discussing the structure of their presentation (Carl had had some great ideas for making it more interesting) for ages now, at least it felt as if they had. Pete’s mum had brought them each a cup of tea after a while. Their cups were empty for quite some time now though. Pete suddenly realized the silence around them. “D’you mind me swapping the sides? We haven’t finished the album yet.” Carl looked up surprised. “Yeah, of course, that would be nice.” Pete hopped off the bed and turned the record before putting it back on the turntable. When he got back to the warm mattress, sound filled the room. Pete tried to focus on his notes before him again but happened to get distracted by looking at Carl over and over again. Brilliant. He had known that it would come down to this. But he had made himself work in earnest for long enough he thought. How did Carl manage to work this efficiently when he hadn’t practised it at school? Pete was exhausted. He let himself fall backwards on his bed theatrical and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m knackered.” Carl looked amused but had to yawn at that. He looked almost catlike as he stretched his back. And to Pete’s utter surprise he lay down supine beside him on the small bed. Pete tried to stay away as much as possible, to not offend him. Carl however turned onto his side to look sleepily at him. How beautiful he was. How close he was. How anxious and insecure he was. And then those lines both of them knew so well glided through the air and sat down between them. “I'll be your mirror, reflect what you are, in case you don't know, I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset, the light on your door to show that you're home.” Carl’s eyes found Pete’s and rested there. Pete didn’t know how to show Carl that that was exactly what he wanted to be for him. That he could show him so much more than that what he knew, or thought he knew. Because what he wanted to show him was Carl himself. As it seemed that he wasn’t able to see his own self, his own worth. “When you think the night has seen your mind, that inside you're twisted and unkind, let me stand to show that you are blind, please put down your hands ‘cause I see you.” Carl’s left hand got up though, instead of resting down as instructed to get to Pete’s head and slowly glide through strands of dark messy hair. Gently he stroked it and Pete’s eyes rested fascinated on Carl’s face, as he watched the movements of his own hand intently. “I find it hard to believe you don't know the beauty you are, but if you don't, let me be your eyes, a hand to your darkness, so you won't be afraid.” Carl’s hand wandered down to Pete’s face. A thumb stroked his right cheek there. Blue eyes met his own. This moment of their meeting gazes would be one of Pete’s favourite moments in life forever. Every time it happened, he felt his blood running through his body, felt his heart beating, his nerves tickling as if only then he was alive. He felt alive. He leaned forward and brought their lips together.


	6. Chapter 6

Carl kissed Pete back. He just couldn’t help moving his lips with Pete’s, couldn’t help shifting closer and putting his hand around his neck. And he certainly couldn’t help enjoying it. He couldn’t because…well, because he didn’t want to. He felt Pete relax against the mattress and only then he realised that he had his eyes closed. He opened them to see Pete’s face up close in front of him. His eyes were downcast, his dark lashes brushed against his white cheeks. They were so close, Carl could have touched them with his nose, if he wasn’t too preoccupied with keeping both their mouths locked. This close Carl could see all the fine hair in Pete’s face, every single pore and mole. And it was fascinating. Carl felt overwhelmed by what he could see and feel, details in Pete’s appearance, a movement in the air when he exhaled through his nose and of course the feeling of his soft lips caressing his own. Carl slowly opened his mouth further, waiting in anticipation for Pete to make the next move. He felt his heart beat faster and had a funny feeling in his stomach as Pete’s tongue brushed against his lower lip before sliding slowly inside. Carl felt like his head might explode, everything he felt was so intense. Of course he had done this before often enough, but right now it didn’t matter anymore. It all felt like doing it for the first time. And yet it felt so natural. His fingers tangling themselves in Pete’s hair, their chests sliding against each other in time with their lips and tongues, Pete’s hand that had found its way to Carl’s back to stroke there ever so slightly…  
Lost in the feeling of this boy against him, Carl couldn’t quite explain why he had blocked this out first, when they had been in Carl’s room just a day before. He couldn’t deny it, even then he had felt something. He had felt that Pete wasn’t really like the others, as clichéd as it sounded but there was something about him that Carl hadn’t understood immediately. And it had scared him first. It wasn’t what Carl had expected. And usually Carl’s expectations were answered. He had learned to adapt them to the society because as it seemed the society was everything. One day, Carl had told himself, one day he would be able to ignore all that and build his life on his own ideals and dreams but right now he belonged to the weakest link in this system and he wasn’t going to break out of that and risk all he had. He wasn’t a fool. So Carl hadn’t really been prepared to suddenly find Pete standing in his doorway on a Thursday afternoon. And not in the slightest had he acted like Carl would have thought, ignoring everything Carl would accept as normal behaviour. He had told him what he had wished to hear for so long, not only that he was good at playing - he had practised a lot and he made progress, he knew that much himself and was fairly proud of himself – but that Pete had believed him what he sang, that it had sounded real. And that was all Carl wanted to do, to make music that touches people. But never had Carl expected to actually hear words so reassuring like those relating to his greatest passion. That just wasn’t what he knew. And then this wondrous boy had finished his performance with a poem, declaimed so carefully, winding every word around his tongue like he did now with Carl’s own as if he had wanted to cherish each syllable. And now Carl realised what Pete really had done back then. Not only reciting poetry to fill the silence with noises but something more meaningful. Like he had listened to Carl expressing his love for music, his most important passion, his anchor in the hard times, he had offered Carl to listen to his own in return. He had shown openly what fuelled him, what kept him moving to make up for his interruption. Carl now felt so grateful for Pete’s gentleness back then and moved his trapped right arm from underneath his body to grab Pete’s left hand and intertwine their fingers. He felt Pete’s fingers squeeze his own and the other hand on his back press into him in response.   
Carl recalled the picture of Pete sitting on his bed and looking at him so caring. And then to top it all off Pete had kissed him. And Carl supposed it had just been too much. Too much to process. It wasn’t normal to find someone who felt the same, thought the same about the world and escaping into his dreams so suddenly, right? That wasn’t what society told you. And that a boy should kiss a boy wasn’t either. Carl giggled slightly at his way of thinking only 24 hours ago. How had he been able to refuse himself something that felt this good? No girl he had kissed had caused such a feeling, so intriguing that you didn’t want to stop ever. His giggles vibrated against Pete’s lips though and he pulled back, looking amused and curious at Carl. “What is it?”, he grinned, his eyes sparkling. Those eyes. There weren’t other eyes like those on this planet, Carl was sure. He leaned in to Pete again, their noses touching and Carl whispered, looking into those pools of brown: “Nothing”. Pete’s grin widened and Carl pressed his mouth to the long curve of Pete’s lips, sucking at the stretched flesh until Pete relaxed them and responded properly again. Carl’s eyes somehow wandered to Pete’s writing desk behind his head and suddenly flew open. “Fuck”, he uttered against his lips and disengaged himself from Pete. “What?”, Pete asked, concern written all over his face. “Look at the time, I missed my last bus home.” Pete turned his head in the direction of his alarm clock. It was past nine. “Maybe I could use your telephone to call a taxi?”, Carl asked. He didn’t want to go, he wanted to crawl into Pete’s arms and stay there, relaxing against his warm body and looking at him all night. But he supposed he shouldn’t overstay. Pete looked a bit disappointed. “Um, I don’t know, yeah but you could, you know, stay? Only if you want to, of course, you could have the bed, I’ll just sleep on a mattress on the floor and tomorrow is Saturday, so we have no school”, he added quickly. Carl was stunned. “Really? Do you want that?”, he asked incredulous. “Of course I do.” Pete smiled at him. “But is it okay, I mean with your parents.” “They are always happy when I bring friends home. I’m going to tell them and prepare my mattress and then you can call your parents to say you’re staying here”, Pete said full of beans and all but bounced out of the room. Like a child at Christmas morning, Carl thought amused and couldn’t stop smiling at Pete’s enthusiastic reaction. Alone in the room he found himself once again looking around at Pete’s stuff and with a sad realization he thought that he didn’t even really know Pete. But he really wanted to. And there were the craziest questions crossing Carl’s mind, like what’s his favourite colour? or which vegetables does he hate? Carl looked at his posters. So he was a football fan. Carl furrowed his brows. That was something he certainly didn’t understand and Morrissey wasn’t really his cup of tea either. His gaze returned to the desk. He already knew that Pete loved poetry, apparently he liked writing too. Next to pens and paper there was a small photograph in a brown wooden frame. It showed a man in a military uniform. Was this Pete’s father? The shape of his face and his dark, slightly messy hair reminded Carl of Pete. Carl was interrupted by Pete’s return, dragging a heavy and worn-out mattress into the room. Carl helped him carrying it over next to the bed. While Pete went to get a pillow and a blanket, Carl went downstairs and called his mum to tell her about staying at a friend’s. She didn’t mind. When he returned, Pete was waiting for him, sitting on the mattress and already in his pyjama. “Um, I haven’t got a pyjama or anything else really.” “You can burrow something of mine”, Pete said immediately and jumped up to open his wardrobe. “Don’t mind me, a t-shirt will do”, Carl said and Pete threw him a red one. As Carl took off his clothes he felt Pete’s eyes on him and was reminded of their last encounter in the changing rooms. He blushed. Dressed in his boxers and Pete’s t-shirt that didn’t quite fit but did his job, Carl climbed into bed next to Pete on his mattress who was already wrapped in his blanket. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in your own bed?” “Yeah, really, it’s okay”, he yawned. “God, I’m tired”, he smiled. “Yeah, me too”, Carl smiled back. And he really was. Silently they both lied down and Pete turned the light off. Silence and darkness engulfed Carl and slowly he felt sleep taking him. Yet before he was fully asleep, he mumbled: “Pete?” “Hhmm?” “What is your favourite colour?”


	7. Chapter 7

Blue. Carl was surrounded by different shades of blue, the light blue of the sky above, the dark blue of the sea below. “Like your eyes”, someone whispered in his ear and he turned his head, the wind moving his hair so that it was blocking his view. Long fingers wiped those dark strands from his face, eyes like dark chocolate looking right at him. Carl felt like he was drowning. As if he was swimming in a cup of hot chocolate. A gaze so sweet and warm he couldn’t look away. Suddenly the wind intensified, formed swirls of air that roared around the two of them. The waves began to build up and smack against the side of the ship. Carl looked up at the sky which was now an endless expanse of dark grey. Carl looked back down only to find himself alone on the deck. “Peter? PETER!” The waves increased further and water sloshed onto the ship, which oscillated more and more. Carl grabbed the railing with both hands to not fall to the ground and looked down into the erratic moving blue. Then all at once there was a jolt and he was falling, falling towards the sea…

“Ouch!” There was Pete’s voice right next to Carl’s ear. He blinked, startled and lifted his head. His eyes widened when he realized that he laid flat on top of Peter who looked like a doe in headlights from what he could see with only the moonlight coming in through the window. “Oh. Sorry, I just dreamed and, uh, I better get up now.” Cheeks flushed, he disentangled himself from Pete and tried to get up to return to his – Pete’s – bed, when the boy underneath him grabbed his arm. “Stay.” “What?” Carl looked down at Peter, propped up on his hands and utterly bewildered. Now it was Pete’s turn to blush. “What, um, was the dream about?” Carl hesitated for a moment. “Well, it’s just a dream, isn’t it? Not that important.” “Oh no, I’m sure through dreams you can find out a lot about yourself. There’s always so much truth in them that we don’t recognize.” His eyes sparkled. “Come on”, he lifted his blanket a bit to signal that Carl should lie down next to him. Carl raised his eyebrows. The mattress wasn’t very big. Yet he complied and crawled under the offered blanket. He shivered slightly when their legs touched. Pete turned on his side and propped himself up on an elbow and Carl did the same. Like this their positions weren’t that different from when they had kissed a few hours ago. Except the lack of trousers. Where had that come from? “So?”, Pete asked, his eyes so close and dark and way prettier in reality than in his dream. In this dream everything had been so blurry… “Maybe it sounds a bit cheesy but there was me and you in this dream”, he started, his voice quiet as he realized that it was the middle of the night and surely Pete’s parents were asleep. Pete’s eyes seemed to widen even further at that and Carl felt as if they would swallow him whole. “Me?”, he breathed scarcely audible. “And what did we do?” “Somehow Carl’s throat felt very dry. “We were on a ship.” “Ah! The good ship Albion?”, Pete interrupted him, sounding utterly delighted. “What?”, Carl asked, feeling a bit stupid for not being able to say a bit more than one word. Pete beamed at him and began to speak, his voice low as if what he was going to tell was a well-kept secret: “The good ship Albion. Sailing to the shores of Arcadia, a place of spiritual freedom. Home of poetry and music and art and love. There you can be as perfectly imperfect as you are”, he smiled warmly. “I always thought you had to try and go there on your own. Find your own way there. But maybe it’s also possible to share your way with someone else.” He looked so lovingly and Carl felt like melting. “Continue. Please.” “There isn’t much to tell. There was no land in sight, we were alone at sea. And then suddenly there was a storm and somehow you were gone, I couldn’t find you anymore and I tried to hold onto the railing but I failed and I fell into the water and that was when, um, I woke you.” Carl looked down. Immediately there was Pete’s right hand under his chin to tilt his head up again. “You didn’t fail. There’s only so much a man can take until he breaks down. Dream me isn’t very nice if it leaves you in a situation like that. Real me wouldn’t do this to you ever. I don’t want you to think that.” He sounded so wholehearted. “I haven’t thought of you in this way”, Carl assured him. “Then I’m glad”, he smiled and at this smile Carl felt his stomach prickle. “And by the way”, Pete said, suddenly with a mischievous grin, “You can wake me up whenever you like.” His eyes twinkled dangerously. Carl felt himself growing hard. Fuck. Maybe he should return to bed before Pete noticed. But said Pete began to move closer and after everything he had said what could Carl do other than lean in and kiss him? Their lips touched and soon they continued where they had stopped last time. Carl’s left hand tangled itself in Pete’s hair again, his right arm sneaked around Pete’s body to press against his back. Pete’s right arm did the same whilst his left hand lay against Carl’s chest where it moved slowly up and down. It made Carl even harder and at the same time very nervous. What would Pete think if he felt it? Everything he had said to Carl had sounded so sweet and pure and romantic and not like he wanted Carl to grind against his leg and come on his sheets. He would think that Carl just wanted his body when in reality he wanted everything of him. All his words and gazes and little smiles had affected Carl (and apparently his body too). They meant so much to him and all they meant had gone down south now along with his blood. Perfect. Suddenly Carl felt a leg press against his own and seconds later intertwine with it. He got more and more excited. What if this wasn’t as innocent as he had thought? Slowly he moved his leg further towards Pete until he could feel the warmth of his body inches from his skin. He placed his knee where he expected Pete’s crotch to be and pressed forward. Pete moaned into his mouth. Quite loudly. Carl’s eyes widened. He pressed again. The hand on his chest grabbed Carl’s t-shirt and pulled whilst the one on his back pressed him tightly to Pete’s body. He gasped as a knee slid between his own legs to reciprocate. He retired both his hands to let them slip under Pete’s t-shirt and move over ivory skin. Now it was Pete’s turn to gasp. Carl moved his hands around to grab Pete’s hips, then let his fingertips ghost over his stomach and move them higher to his chest. He was surprised at how soft the body under his fingers felt. Pete raised his arms and finally they stopped kissing so that Carl could take the fabric off. He looked in awe down at the half-naked boy, skin almost white in the dark of the room and looking so delicate. Pete looked shy up at him when Carl moved closer again to plant a kiss on his right shoulder. Then his mouth wandered and he began kissing his neck, his collarbone, his cheek, wherever he wanted to feel this soft skin under his lips before returning to Pete’s mouth whilst Pete’s fingers were in his hair. Pete shuffled closer, so close that their erections brushed against each other. Both boys moaned at that and opened their eyes. Carl was shocked at the lustful look in Pete’s eyes, he must be looking at someone else surely. But he wasn’t. He was looking right at Carl while he began to move his hips. Carl bit his lip. This was pure bliss, the right amount of pressure and the right pace. But best of all was the body against his own and the face in front of his own, those full, kiss-swollen lips and those dark brown eyes. Carl closed his own. The room was silent except for their gasps and moans. Pete’s hands now copied Carl’s from earlier and shimmied over the skin under his t-shirt. Carl shivered. He lifted his arms so that Pete could free him from his t-shirt as well. Their bare chests touched and Carl couldn’t help the “Peter” that left his lips in a whisper. He winded his arms around the other boy to draw him in closer still. One of his hands found Pete’s boxers and without thinking about it, it slid beneath the waistband and grabbed his arse. “Carl!”, Pete uttered quite loudly and his hips shot forwards. “Oh fuck”, was Carl’s quick reply to that. Carl felt himself getting close. He really didn’t want to ruin his pants so they had to come off quickly or it was too late. Yet his hands thought they could just as well start with Pete’s as they were there. Carl pulled them down to his knees before trying to remove his own without separating his body from Pete’s. Now there was nothing in between them anymore, just skin on skin and the feeling overwhelmed Carl. Carl’s hands took Pete’s face and pulled it down towards himself so that their lips could meet once again in a frantic kiss as everything got faster, hands touched what they could reach, hips jerked, skin began to sweat, breathing quickened. A few more thrusts, once more skin rubbing against skin and Carl was coming, accompanied by a silent “fuck, Pete” against his lips. It seemed as if those two words were everything Pete had needed to hear to let go himself and seconds later Carl felt the sticky fluid on his stomach. Suddenly Carl felt how very tired he was. But before he could close his eyes he needed to look up and into those eyes. They looked back and Carl was so relieved when he saw all that he felt himself mirrored in those two pools of brown: contentment, affection and gratefulness. With a smile on his lips and his eyes closed he lay down again and let sleep take him.


	8. Chapter 8

Carl woke up feeling oddly good. More than good actually. Fucking fantastic. He just lay there, eyes closed and smiling inwardly. He didn’t even know why. But there was something about being comfortably tucked under a blanket on a Saturday morning with Pete Doherty wrapped around him that made him feel really content. Wait, where did that come from? Slowly Carl peeked out from under the blanket and up at Pete’s sleeping form. Carl’s head was pressed against his moving chest. He had to smile at Pete’s ridiculous huge closed eyelids. What did you do with orbs that size? Staring down at Carl after just waking up apparently. Oooops. “Hey”, Pete whispered looking so in love Carl’s heart missed a beat. God, he needed help. “Did I wake you?”, he asked the yawning boy in his arms. “No, it’s alright”, he answered sitting upright and taking Carl by surprise who was still snuggling up against Pete’s chest. Standing up and stretching his insanely long limbs Pete asked: “Breakfast?”

***

"Do you want more coffee?”, Pete shouted to be heard over the voices coming from the TV in the living room. “No, I’m fine.”   
Pete’s parents were out for brunch with friends and the fact that he and Carl were alone in the house made Pete feel giddy as he sat down next to Carl again with his bowl of cereal. He couldn’t help but press a kiss to Carl’s cheek as he moved closer. Carl smiled at him.   
“You know”, Carl started after they had been sitting there watching TV for a while now without one of them speaking. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the silence, he just felt like he needed to say this right now, before the moment was over. “I haven’t felt this happy in a long time. Just staying over at yours and having you around and talking and kissing and, just, being together.” He felt himself blushing while Pete giggled. “You are just so different. So wonderful. I think I’m in love with you.” God, that was the time when the floor would usually open up so you could hide from the world. And Pete’s huge eyes that looked as if they were about to swallow him whole. Maybe that wasn’t so bad, at least then he wouldn’t be able to embarrass himself any further. And then he also would be inside Pete which probably wasn’t bad either – god, he really needed to get a grip. Strangely enough though it was Pete who blushed a pretty shade of red. “I’ve had a crush on you since I moved here and saw you for the first time, you know”, he almost whispered and peeked at Carl from under his lashes. “Oh”, was all he could say to that newfound realisation. “I’m a bit slow at picking up signals, I guess.” Pete giggled.

***

Pete Doherty was nervous. Nervous because of school. And that was something that really wasn’t usual. He was a clever 17 year old boy, who hadn’t to worry about failing class. A presentation was a good way to get great marks and normally he appreciated giving them but right now he’d rather be at home in his room and cover himself with his blanket. There it would be much more comfortable and safer than in the classroom where he would have to talk to his classmates and not let himself be distracted by someone standing right beside him. A certain someone. A very gorgeous someone with intense blue eyes that made it impossible to speak without stumbling over your own words when they were directed at you. With lips sinuous like the waves in the ocean where the good ship Albion glided through the water and so soft looking like a kitten’s fur. With dark curly hair that seemed to never fall the way its wearer wanted it to so that he had to toss his head a little or run his hands through it which was Pete’s absolutely favourite move a hand could ever make. Yes, the person who happened to be paired with Pete to give a presentation for this English lesson was his dream boy. The one he had kissed this morning. And yesterday. The one he had actually been kissing for the past days. And so maybe he shouldn’t be that nervous. He smiled to himself as this very same boy continued talking about Emily Dickinson’s life. He looked over at him and their gazes met – and said more than they knew.


End file.
